


after

by khayr



Series: the blood we shared (the love we cannot let go) [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Knifeplay, Waxplay, anyway you all know what this is tbh, hey guys u know that feel when someone makes your rarepair canon, yeah im Feelin it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 12:38:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10741863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khayr/pseuds/khayr
Summary: Those living in the past are foolish, Sylvanas knows; when she forges ahead she burns bridges without discretion, blazes paths for the future of her own people. Each new day is only a reminder that her life before the Scourge has no place when her death shaped everything she now knows.Nevertheless, it is hard not to dwell in memory when your dearest ghost is forever at your side.





	after

**Author's Note:**

> First of all: the Dark Mirror short story that Blizzard put out was great and no one's ever gonna convince me otherwise....... what a time to be alive when your rarepair becomes canon!! and then you gotta scramble to fling some content out into the void in celebration!!!!
> 
> shout out to my guildies that helped me out, you guys are amazing. and I love u. (°◡°♡) now you guys know that I'm garbage even more than before.
> 
> There's really no excuse for this tbh, so I don't have one. 8 ) enjoy!

Sylvanas cursed herself for it, but she could not wait any longer to call for her champion again. A scant three days had passed since she had put Nathanos through the Val’kyr’s ritual, and although there was plenty to do in preparation for the assault on the Broken Isles the idle thought of him adjusting to his newly restored body nagged her like an itch down the back of her neck she couldn’t quite scratch. She’d been dead longer than she bothered to think about anymore but something about the whole situation had an indescribable feeling twisting deep within her chest.    
  
It was unacceptable, really. The Banshee Queen was better than that.   
  
Or perhaps she wasn’t; she’d called for him to her personal quarters, dismissing the Dark Rangers stationed outside the room at his arrival. It left the two of them completely alone, which was not unusual in itself these days. Despite Nathanos’ neutral expression she knew there was undoubtedly agitation- and subdued interest- swirling beneath the surface at the interruption to his daily tasks. Anything requiring the seclusion of her private rooms was more than enough to draw his full attention, no matter how well he hid it beneath that damn scowl. She knew him far too well for that.   
  
They sat in silence a moment as she took her time looking him over, pleased with the end result of her efforts. Certainly his old body had served him well over the years, but she could not deny how silently thrilled she was with the transformation. As he stood just inside the doorway his broad shoulders nearly filled the frame; the height he had regained left an imposing silhouette. If he was uncomfortable with her scrutiny he gave nothing away... although Sylvanas was more than certain he relished the attention whether he would admit to it or not.   
  
“Nathanos,” she said finally, rising from her seat to slowly wind around the room towards him, “Would you indulge your queen for a short while?”   
  
“If the Dark Lady is asking,” he replied, arching a brow. He oozed impatience even as she came closer; undoubtedly she had pulled him from other duties... but those could wait for a few hours.    
  
Sylvanas brushed purposefully past him to flip the deadbolt on the door for safe measure, catching his eye with a coy look as he turned to glare back at her. She had expected as much usual defiance from him, but for all his show there was little he would ever tell her  _ no  _ for.   
  
“She is.” Nothing more was said as she crossed back across the room, slowly running her fingers over an ornate box sitting at the edge of her desk. As she turned her eyes back to him she caught the flicker of recognition across his features followed by the tensing and untensing of his entire body. Her mouth curled into a subtle, satisfied smirk. Good. That was the reaction she had been hoping for.   
  
“Is this-”   
  
“Necessary, Blightcaller?” Instantly her eyes narrowed, tone sharp with the quick-rising ire of a banshee. “Perhaps not, but I desire the chance for a distraction and to test the bounds of your newfound strength.”   
  
Something shifted briefly within Nathanos as he finally crossed the room after her without being asked to, drawing far closer to Sylvanas than she allowed for any other. As he stood behind her- close enough that his shoulder briefly brushed her back- she felt his palpable hesitation as he planned his words carefully. A wise choice.   
  
“Is  _ this  _ the reason you were so intent I undergo the ritual?” His voice was nothing but a low rumble of a growl, laced with a dangerous edge that Sylvanas knew full well had no purchase against her. He was doing what he did best- pulling up his gruff front to feign disinterest- but she could see right through him. Despite that knowledge, the insinuation still struck a nerve like a hot iron.   
  
“I did not  _ lie  _ to you, if that is what you want to imply,” she hissed, turning her head to glare at his back. “I require my champion to be at his best for what is to come. Any other details are… an added benefit.”   
  
Nathanos seemed to ponder her words for a moment in tense quiet before he turned towards her, reaching past to flip the lid unceremoniously off of the box. To an untrained eye it appeared to be only a collection of candles in two shades crafted from beeswax, scentless and delicately carved with looping elven runes. These were fresh, their wicks still clean and white; someone who didn’t know the Banshee Queen might only see candles meant to burn in one of the many sconces around the room and nothing more.   
  
Her champion knew better. There was a subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth before a low huff sounded someplace in his throat and he swallowed thickly.   
  
Sylvanas almost had to suppress a shudder as the breath ghosted down the back of her neck.   
  
Almost.   
  
“Does my queen command it?”   
  
The question surprised her for a moment and gave her pause. She could order him to obey her whims and he would oblige out of duty, if nothing else. There was little allure to subjugating a man who would willingly follow her into damnation however, and so Sylvanas thought carefully on her response.   
  
“No.” She felt him take a sharp, stifled breath at her words. Catching him off guard was worth the chance of him declining; a subtle smirk curled at the corner of her mouth at the thought. It was an invitation, not a demand, and forcing him to indulge her would drain half of the fun of it all.   
  
Nathanos finally tore his attention from the box of candles and leaned back out of her personal space, his eyes focused intently on her as if looking for the catch to this game. She gave him no room to doubt her words, only arching a brow as she awaited his answer. That  _ itch  _ crawling down the back of her neck returned in full force, a feeling long since forgotten roiling in her chest again.   
  
“As you wish.” The hunter huffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Be quick about it, I have archers to train.”   
  
“I do not intend to be,” she purred, only half managing to hide her delight, “I would have thought you knew me better than that, Nathanos.”   
  
He let out a dark chuckle that dissolved into a deep growl as she pressed her palms against his chest and forced him to take several steps backwards. It had been an entire lifetime ago since she’d indulged in his company this way, and Sylvanas found herself rusty in more ways than one. When she was the ranger-general this might have started with a bottle of wine in front of a fire, but that was then… now she only had the cold curling around her heart like a fist of iron and a banshee’s rage always building in her chest.   
  
“You realize this does nothing to curb the incessant gossip your Dark Rangers have taken up,” he said drily, agitation thick in his tone, “Death has hardly changed  _ that  _ at all.”   
  
“Oh?” Sylvanas wasn’t completely listening to him, instead tugging at the lip of his leather pauldron in a wordless command for him to remove it. “What else have they been saying about me, my champion?”   
  
There was no reply from him right away, only a hard glare of narrowed eyes that did nothing to deter her from her goal. It wasn’t a secret to her that her use of his title was often enough to tip the scales in her favor; despite his best efforts Nathanos was predictable to her. Each little detail only added to the enjoyment she got out of toying with him at her leisure.    
  
Honestly, Sylvanas suspected he did the same. The man could be downright aggravating at the worst of times even if he always ended up agreeing with her in the end.   
  
“Nothing you need concern yourself with.” He reached around to unstrap the first pauldron of his armor and then the other, methodically pulling off piece by piece as he watched her like a hawk. There was little doubt that he was purposefully taking his time, although if he was savoring the moment or simply being obstinate for the sake of grating on her nerves it wasn’t clear.   
  
Sylvanas turned her attention back to her desk while he shucked his armor, carefully plucking two of the lighter colored candles from their box and moving to a sconce on the wall to light the wick with calculated disinterest. It wouldn’t do to let her anticipation get the better of her. Seconds ticked by as she stared into the flame that sprung to life, watching the subtle flicker as a draft shifted past it. Carefully she crossed back to the desk and placed them both upon the surface to allow them to melt.   
  
When she finally glanced back to Nathanos he met her gaze evenly. He was just sliding his pants off his hips, leaving nothing to her imagination as they hit the floor with the rest of his gear. A lesser person may have shied away from the Banshee Queen’s gaze but he didn’t so much as flinch as she approached to look him over.   
  
“How fortunate that the ritual worked so well,” she murmured, brushing her fingertips over the hard line of his collarbone, “Fitting for my champion, of course.”    
  
“As long as it allows me to vanquish your enemies, it suits me just fine.” Nathanos was looking down at her, red eyes gleaming but otherwise betraying nothing of what was stewing beneath the surface. He huffed a soft breath of annoyance when her fingers strayed to the ridge of muscle along his abdomen. Sylvanas graced him with a faint smile only briefly before it curved into a satisfied smirk instead.   
  
“Good.” She tilted her head just back, eyes half lidded as she met his gaze. “On your knees.”   
  
For a moment Sylvanas actually wondered if he would obey the command, curious if his stubbornness would get in the way of her game. She was not disappointed; Nathanos shifted himself and sunk down slowly, not breaking eye contact even when his knees hit the carpet below him. Pleased with his obedience she moved back to where the candles she had lit were resting, molten wax pooled in each one and threatening to spill over the edge.   
  
“I would have thought  _ that  _ to be long gone,” Nathanos said idly as she lit the next set of candles from the flames of the first. His eyes were locked on the box. “A bit of foolish sentimentality, perhaps?”   
  
“Mind your tongue.” Her words were sharp, eyes narrowed as she carried one candle back over, careful not to spill a single drop of it. Even so, he was not completely wrong and Sylvanas hated the fact that he knew her well enough to see it. She made no mention of the Dark Ranger she had dispatched to her old estate ages ago to collect a few of her more personal effects… the box had been among them, of course. It was a trivial detail and not one he would get to goad her for today.   
  
Despite her warning Nathanos was smirking at her when she came to his side again. Her lip curled back into a snarl as her free hand snatched his chin in her grip and tilted his head back herself.   
  
“Do not ruin this for me, Blightcaller,” she warned, keeping hold of him until she was satisfied he had nothing more to say on the matter. With that she tipped the first candle unceremoniously over his shoulder, watching with keen interest as red wax spilled down the muscle before hardening in a dozen thin lines against his skin.   
  
Her champion let out a soft hiss of breath and then she was tilting the candle back the other direction, the remaining wax dripping out and down past his shoulder blade. The first round had caught him off guard as he tried to grapple with his new form’s reaction to the sting of pain, leaving him just barely breathless for a few short moments. A fascinating thing to keep note of.   
  
“You used to be more gentle.” Nathanos snickered quietly despite his compromised position. He was pushing her intentionally, this much she knew. It was infuriating in all of the worst ways.   
  
“And  _ you  _ used to talk less,” she hissed back, feeling familiar anger curl in her chest as he continued to test her. “Now arms up.”   
  
For a moment she nearly expected to have to put him back into place and remind him of his station but he obliged, linking his fingers behind his head as she returned with the next candle. This one nearly threatened to spill as she cupped it carefully, pausing only to glance appreciatively over him before she upended it and emptied all that had melted over his collarbone. The wax pooled only briefly at the hollow of his throat as it spilled down over ridges of lean muscle, leaving streaks of red that cracked as they quickly hardened. Nathanos flinched in reaction.    
  
A low, quieted growl rumbled in his throat when she stroked her fingers under his jaw.   
  
“You know how I feel about dwelling on the past, Nathanos,” she practically purred, her thumb resting against his lips to quiet him when his eyes flickered up to her, “Do not test me when you know I make exception only for you.”   
  
Sylvanas flashed a coy smirk when she felt- rather than heard- his soft mumble in response. He could be a fearsome force when unleashed upon her enemies, but in the quiet seclusion her chambers offered he was nearly tame for her. Perhaps it was simply the sting of pain from the wax beginning to build on itself that left him this way.   
  
Or perhaps it was something else entirely. She did not want to think too hard on it.   
  
The moment had already passed and Sylvanas moved to retrieve the next candle, carefully blowing out the flame as she did so. This one she tipped down his back, leaving her captivated by the ripple of muscle as his entire body tensed and released in reaction. Nathanos let out a stifled groan with this pass, spine arching as the wax spilled between his shoulder blades in jagged lines. His breathing picked up as the wave of pain ebbed away, slowly turning ragged.   
  
A low, throaty chuckle sounded from deep in his throat as he bowed his head forward, his hair obscuring his face from her view. He rolled his shoulders back in an attempt to relax, a shuddering breath moving through him as he did so. The last of the deep crimson candles followed soon after, this one splashing down his ribcage and earning a half-quieted sound that was significantly less influenced by pain and deeply rooted in another sensation.   
  
The only candle remaining was jet black, the heat radiating all the way down to her palms as she lifted it from the surface of the desk. There was the temptation to light another, but Sylvanas’ patience was waning. Cold iron in her chest had given way to an unfamiliar and long-forgotten heat that wicked down her spine in anticipation, leaving her itching for something else to sate the sensation.   
  
As she came to stand in front of him she leaned forward, bringing the candle low enough so that Nathanos could see the flickering flame from where his head was still bowed.   
  
“Snuff it out for me,” she demanded, “And then tilt your head back.”    
  
Even his labored breathing wasn’t enough to completely smother the flame; Sylvanas watched with a smug sense of satisfaction as he drew a shuddering breath into his lungs to extinguish it as asked. The tilt of his head exposed his throat to her again, and for a moment the Dark Lady pondered this display of trust before emptying the molten wax over the broad expanse of his chest. It spattered down to catch his hip and thigh, the inky black of this candle a stark contrast against the red that still lingered from the first.   
  
Nathanos let out a choked sound and shuddered, the building heat finally getting to him as the wax cooled in rivulets down the length of his frame. He did his best to quiet his breathing as she took his jaw in her hand again, thumb stroking his cheek only briefly before she released him to return the candle to the desk with the rest.   
  
“Good,” she murmured, “Very good.” The praise she offered was enough to allow him to finally break and Nathanos doubled over to catch his breath as she carefully returned the entire collection to the box.   
  
It took very little to procure a narrow elven blade from the top drawer of her desk once they had all been put away. Sylvanas crouched behind her champion, one hand touching his back with a gentleness that belied her fierce demeanor. Despite how harsh she could be with him she could not intentionally hurt him more than the thin line that blurred between pain and pleasure. One palm smoothed over the nape of his neck, holding him still as she positioned the blade where she needed it.   
  
“This will be cold,” she warned, holding him still as she edged the knife along the first delicate threads of hardened wax, “Stay still.”   
  
“Whatever you ask, my queen.” His response was muffled, an obscene sound caught in his throat as she ran the flat of the blade against his spine. Sylvanas would have been lying if something in his tone hadn’t piqued her interest. Despite the usual snark that often greeted her his voice was rough, the faint tremor of muscle along his body almost distracting her from her task. Silently she worked her way down his back, taking her time in removing each bit of hardened wax from his skin.    
  
Although Nathanos had returned to subdued quiet she could feel the way he shifted under her touch with each pass of the blade. The thinner places peeled away like paper at the touch of her fingers until what she could reach on this side had been cleared away. The wax had left faint red lines where it had scalded in its wake, although the marks would fade in short time.   
  
“To think the Dark Lady still has some gentleness left in her hands,” he rumbled when she came around to the front of him. Sylvanas shot him a seething glare but the look she received in response was nothing short of blithely amused. He knew better than to assume this task to be only out of kindness, of course... nor was he expecting anything else out of their bargain.   
  
“Enough,” she cut him off before he could say anything further, “I told you not to test me, did I not?”    
  
Despite all she had done to him she watched as Nathanos’ lip curled back in a faint snarl, pushing the limits of her tolerance to his behavior yet again. He had no retort ready, his body seemingly still reeling from the pain inflicted on it. The results of her game were certainly more enlightening than she had expected. It appeared he had ended up caught someplace between barely living and truly undead just as she had come to be, all through the Val’kyr ritual. A fascinating development, all things considered.   
  
The flat of the blade found purchase against his collarbone next, continuing the same careful path down his chest to remove each thin line of wax that still remained. It flaked off easily, some of the larger swaths coming off in whole pieces at the edge of the knife. As Sylvanas reached his abdomen he took a sharp, stifled inhale of breath that made her pause for confirmation to continue. This had been a favorite game of theirs a lifetime ago, though things were certainly different now.   
  
Nathanos exhaled slowly, his fingers carefully wrapping around her wrist.   
  
“Was this all you required of me?” His voice was low, the tension in his shoulders evident in the way he held his posture. For all his snark and usual confidence it was clear for a moment that he wasn’t sure what answer he actually wanted to hear from her.   
  
Sylvanas paused, releasing the blade in her hand and allowing it to drop unceremoniously to the floor. When his grip on her arm relaxed she set to rubbing away the last of the wax with her fingers instead, her touch trailing absently down over the bone of his hip to his thigh. The question raised a good point, of course… what exactly did she intend with all of this? What had started as idle curiosity had twisted into something she still couldn’t put a name to. It was no longer the simple glee of having a new toy that filled each passing moment here.   
  
Whatever it was, it burned like a newly stoked flame  _ eagerly  _ seeking fuel.   
  
“Only if you have the time to indulge one more curiosity,” she replied, tilting his chin up to look him in the eye, “Of more personal interest.”   
  
Nathanos’ expression was unreadable as he sought to figure out what she was getting at, but ultimately he let out a wane exhale and rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. For all his show he had never considered anything but what she already had in mind.   
  
“When those fools cannot even shoot a stationary target I will have to blame you, Sylvanas.”   
  
Despite herself she flinched at the sound of her name on his tongue; how many years had passed since he’d said it aloud? Not since she had ripped him from the Lich King’s control, at the very least. Since securing her position as the Banshee Queen he had always referred to her as such, although if it were simply out of respect or something else entirely she had never bothered to ask. It hadn’t mattered.   
  
Sylvanas released his jaw from her grip and stood, tearing herself from the thought. It still didn’t matter. With all that was riding on their assault on the Broken Shore she could not afford to be reflecting so deeply on the actions of her champion, nor could she allow herself to linger on the past.   
  
It was hypocritical when she had already gone out of her way to ensure Nathanos go through the Val’kyr ritual, however. No matter what reasoning she spoke out loud it had always been about keeping him strong and directly at her side.   
  
“Up,” she snapped, eyes narrowing, “You must remember how this goes.”   
  
He obeyed, rising carefully to his feet and taking a quick glance around the room. After a moment he took his chances and crossed to the corner where Sylvanas’ bed was sequestered. When she didn’t command otherwise he slid onto the mattress, leaning his back against the headboard with a soft hiss at the cold wood against his skin. Even from here she could still see the thin red streaks where the wax had lingered.   
  
Sylvanas slid her fingers under one pauldron, deftly unhooking each side before she dropped them both onto the surface of the desk. She could feel his eyes on her as she removed piece after piece of armor from her body, paying him no mind until she was finally laying her cloak atop the pile that had accumulated. That foreign feeling she’d been wrestling with returned in full force as salacious heat wound down the length of her spine and settled low in her gut. She recognized it now for what it was, although part of her was surprised  _ lust  _ of all things could manage to manifest at all anymore.    
  
“And just where is that contentious Nathanos Blightcaller from a few days ago?” As she spoke she slowly wound around the desk towards where he rested, taking her time as she went. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her from the moment she’d begun stripping out of her armor, and even now his gaze was locked on her. It was unwavering in its intensity. She’d seen the same amount of focus in the field; even death had not altered that.   
  
“Right here,” he finally managed when she had reached the edge of the bed, swallowing thickly as she slid a leg over him and settled her weight in his lap, “Although decidedly... unsure if this body even  _ allows  _ for this.”   
  
“Which is why it is simply a… personal curiosity,” Sylvanas cut in, fingers gripping his jaw. Her mouth curved in a coy, amused smirk as she palmed the length of him, the soft gasp of breath and subtle arch of his spine more than worth the exasperation he caused her on nearly a daily basis. The reaction in itself was promising enough, at least. An experimental stroke had him edging forward into her hand almost a little too eagerly.   
  
Nathanos squirmed beneath her at her touch, seeming to be grappling with whatever feeling was scraping at his newly-tuned senses.  It didn’t take much to coax him to full hardness like this, although certainly the treatment she had given him before had already set him down this path. There was no doubt he was a glutton for punishment at her hand; he was as predictable in undeath as he had been in life.    
  
He huffed a low breath, smothering the whine rising in his throat before she could scold him for it. In all honesty Sylvanas had nearly let slip the leash for a moment; the unfamiliar territory still carried the weight of their tangled history and it was all too easy to get lost within memory. For someone who so ardently scorned the past it was becoming more and more difficult to continue to do so. That fact left her furious with herself for this weakness, but the appeal of it all had already caught her full attention.   
  
“Good,” she murmured, her free hand threading through his hair to pull his head roughly back, “Do not let this get the better of you, Blightcaller… you know how the Dark Rangers  _ do  _ love to gossip.”   
  
The retort he had ready died on his tongue, dissolving into mumbled praise as her grip tightened into long, firm strokes. Sylvanas wasted no more time in idly toying with him. For all her prior efforts she was already slick with arousal, her pulse hammering in her throat in anticipation. A subtle shift of her frame was all it took to fix her position; she lined herself up and sunk down onto him in one fluid movement with a soft sigh.    
  
For a moment it left her reeling before she could collect herself again. If Nathanos had noticed he made no comment; his eyes were half-lidded as he watched her adjust, waiting for her to decide she was ready to continue. Much to her displeasure he ignored her quiet growl of warning when one hand gripped her hip to steady her.   
  
Despite everything she threatened him with she could never truly bring him to harm… and it infuriated her that he  _ knew  _ it.   
  
Nathanos was ready this time when she lifted her hips and dropped her weight back down, an obscene sound caught in his throat as Sylvanas settled into a steady pace. With her knees snug against either side of his thighs he lacked the leverage to arch back against her, instead left at her mercy for the second time now. He tilted his head back as she tugged impatiently on his hair again, exposing his neck to her with a low groan.   
  
“ _ Quiet _ , Nathanos,” she hissed, agitation thick in her tone, “Lest I  _ force  _ you to be.”    
  
“You make that sound so appealing,” he drawled, breath hitching as she quickened her pace without paying him any mind, “How enticing.”   
  
Sylvanas released her grip on his hair only to tighten her hand around his throat instead, doing her best to ignore the way the action only heightened the heat creeping down her spine with each passing second. He wheezed, a sly sneer crossing his face despite it. His back arched as he found just enough purchase to rock back into her, a strangled grunt the only other sound he made.   
  
Both of them were well out of practice, a thought that nagged Sylvanas when she could not suppress the soft sound that escaped when he met her thrust for thrust. Nathanos’ eyes went alight at that, silent delight at watching her crumble evident on his face. The hand not gripping her waist went for her jaw, pulling her forward to catch a searing- if not  _ furious _ \- kiss.    
  
He would regret that later, probably.   
  
In the heat of the moment it hardly mattered; the distraction was all Sylvanas was able to handle before the coiled spring at her core snapped into mind-numbing release. It had crept up all too suddenly on her, but her champion’s mouth against hers smothered the keening cry that managed to slip through. She felt him seize beneath her moments later, a long, low groan rumbling in his throat that dissolved into exhausted panting soon after he was spent.   
  
Her fingers slowly released her hold on his throat, thumb absently rubbing the faint mark left behind as Sylvanas did her best to steady her breathing. When Nathanos drew a shuddering breath she caved and leaned her head against the crook of his shoulder with an irritated huff. This had been a foolish indulgence at best, but the feeling lingering in the pit of her chest was not helping matters at all.   
  
“This changes nothing,” she warned, voice muffled until she reluctantly extracted herself from the position. For a moment she hesitated before simply draping herself over the other half of the bed for just a few minutes longer. “And do  _ not  _ expect this to become habit, Blightcaller.”   
  
Beside her he let out an amused snicker, tilting his head back against the headboard to close his eyes. Although her question of how far the bounds of his repaired body actually went had been answered, a half dozen other things she did not want to think about had risen to the surface to take its place. She would need time to sort out exactly where she stood on these matters… time that was in short supply these days. One way or another Sylvanas would have to come to terms with it at some point.   
  
“You already know my thoughts,” Nathanos said after a few minutes, tone soft. He didn’t move from where he was, his eyes still closed. “Whatever your will, it will be mine as well… until the end of my days, Dark Lady.”   
  
Sylvanas knew his words to be the truth, but to hear them actually spoken aloud did quiet some of the unknowns churning in her chest. The actual answers could wait for another day.   
  
When she set foot on the Broken Shore, it would be with her champion at her side.   



End file.
